CHERUB: Big Smoke
by bobdat
Summary: The London 2012 Olympics draw the eye of the world to the UK, but George is in trouble (again) and out of the spotlight. He has to make the most of his summer while trying not to get involved in anything, but it's easier said than done when a terrorist attack strikes another CHERUB mission. Book IV in the CHERUB: Knight series.
1. 1: Mayhem

**1: Mayhem**

_July 2012_

Saturday morning lessons were over and the weekend awaited, so CHERUB campus was in a good mood. The weather played its part, providing an unbroken blue sky which was reflected in the surface of the lake, the usual place that Cherubs headed when the weather was good. George was held back at the end of his history lesson for not turning in the homework on time, but he made an excuse and by the time he got to the lake, most of his friends were waiting and had saved him a space. Now he was lying on his back with his eyes shuts and his grey CHERUB t-shirt tucked under his head as a pillow.

Adding to the excitement for most of the agents who were on campus was the fact that in a few weeks, they'd be heading to CHERUB's summer hostel in the Mediterranean, which was always a highlight of the year. George was especially looking forward to it because, by a co-incidence, nearly all of his friends were still on campus. His best friend, Rex, and his basic training partner, Jemima, were still away on a mission in Scotland, but the last he'd heard they'd be back before the start of August. The only other one of his friends who was absent was Harry, who'd recently departed for a mission, but it was still shaping up to be the best hostel trip to date.

The final thing which had put George into the best mood ever, apart from getting to improve the awesome tan he'd got while in Australia over the winter, was the mission he was going on that evening. Everyone at CHERUB loved the missions which involved smashing a place up and then running for it, but they were rarer than orange polar bears and even harder to get onto. The good news was that once in a blue moon, the senior mission controller Denis King organised a coach trip somewhere and let thirty Cherubs loose, and George had managed to get himself selected for it. A group of black-shirts were going to break into an industrial unit and try to copy some important papers, while younger agents were going to be armed with bats and paint and instructions to create chaos.

There was nothing like the prospect of some breaking stuff to put George into a good mood, and not even the complaints of Letty, the girl who lived opposite him in the accommodation block and his best friend who was a girl, dampened it.

"Can't believe you got onto the mission and I didn't," she said for the hundredth time that day, looking over at him from behind her sunglasses. "I've been stuck on campus for months!"

George sighed. "Go and ask Denis then."

"He said the mission was full," Letty complained, rolling onto her front. "Practically everyone else is going, too."

This was an exaggeration. "It's only me, Beatrice and Ralph" George replied.

"Well, since Rex and Jemima are away, the only people left here will be me and Ed," Letty pouted.

George was fed up of listening to her whining, but he refused to let anything take the edge off his mood, so he closed his eyes again and pretended she'd gone away.

"It's not even like you record as an agent is as good as mine," Letty continued. "I'm a navy-shirt, so surely I should be first pick?"

George just ignored her, but when something cast a shadow over his face, he opened one eye, ready to give Letty an earful for not leaving him alone. Instead, he looked up at the imposing physique of his friend Michael, a black-shirt who he'd been friends with ever since Michael had helped to recruit him to CHERUB. Stocky and black with cropped hair, Michael was the type who looked as if he went around breaking people's heads for fun, but he was actually just a funny guy and George got on well with him.

"I hear you're with us tonight," Michael said, nudging George's head with his foot. "Excited yet?"

"Can't bloody wait," George said, moving to a sitting position so he didn't have to look up at Michael's crotch. "Going to be the best thing ever."

Michael bumped fists with him, but caught the look on Letty's face. "What's up, sourpuss?"

"Seems like everyone except me is going on this dumb mission," Letty replied. She always reverted to her American accent when she got upset, something George thought was cute but loved to tease her about.

"Dumb mission," he mimicked, earning another filthy look.

Michael shrugged. "The coach we're taking is parked in the car park and easily seats fifty. I doubt if old Denis will notice you're there if you just tag along."

"Really?" Letty asked, her scowl turning into a wide smile. "Won't I get into trouble?"

"Not so long as you don't sign anything," Michael replied. "Trust me, I've been on about five of these trips and there's always three or four who weren't on the original list."

Letty squealed with excitement. "That's so awesome! Now I can't wait."

"Just stick with George or something. Anyway, I didn't come here to invite your girlfriend. I wanted to ask if you might be up for a little on-coach entertainment." Michael dropped his voice and glanced around theatrically to make sure nobody else was listening.

"What do you have in mind?" George asked, intrigued.

Michael took a seat on the grass next to him. "I was thinking specifically of sneaking a couple of crates of beers onto the coach, you know, to get everyone in the mood," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Perhaps a bottle or two of something stronger for the ladies."

"I'm up for that," George grinned. "So long as you can get your hands on it."

"Oh, I can get it alright. What I need is, ahem." He rubbed his fingertips together in the universal sign for cash.

"Count me in, but I've got nothing at the moment," George replied. "I'll owe you, you know I'm good for it."

"Very true," Michael replied, looking over at Letty. "What about you?"

Letty normally played by the rules and probably disapproved, but the excitement of getting to go on the mission seemed to be consuming her. "If I'm breaking the rules as it is, I might as well go all the way, right?"

"Nice one," Michael said, straightening up. "Not a word to anyone, though. Don't want it getting out."

He walked off and George went back to his sunbathing, this time glad that Letty's moaning had stopped. What he hadn't banked on, however, was her excitable chatting with Beatrice about the mission that kept him from relaxing. Eventually he gave up and just looked out across the lake while keeping half an ear on the conversation, soaking up the sun and the atmosphere.

The coach departed straight after dinner that evening. Letty had managed to invite Ed along too, and it seemed as if plenty of agents had brought a friend, meaning that the crowd waiting for the coach was nearer fifty than thirty. It was a warm night so everyone was in t-shirts and shorts or light trousers, making it look more like a holiday than a mission, and a cheer went up when Denis appeared.

"Alright, you've all seen the briefing so onto the coach, and don't forget to sign your names to say you're here. I'm driving you all down there and we'll be returning at twelve midnight, so don't be late," he said, pushing the button on the exterior of the coach that cause the doors to hiss open.

They were driving to a town called Bexhill-on-Sea which George had never heard of. After searching for it online, he found out that it was on the south coast and had a seafront, but otherwise it looked like a thoroughly boring place. As the coach pulled away everyone cheered again, and with Denis behind a partition with his eyes on the road, Michael thought it safe enough to produce three large crates of lager.

"One each to start with," he said, walking up the aisle to distribute them and almost falling over when the coach went round a tight corner. "Don't drink 'em too fast, we've got three hours on here and you don't want to be sobering up before we get there."

George grabbed his can from Michael and cracked it open, ignoring all advice and gulping down half of it straight away before letting out a giant belch. Ed, who was sitting next to him, cracked up laughing, but Letty and Beatrice, sitting behind, weren't impressed.

"Another one of those and we'll be hanging you out of the window by your ankles," Michael said to him, tutting loudly as he tried to pour vodka into a plastic cup without spilling it.

"I'd like to see you try," George replied cheekily, taking another few mouthfuls from the can.

Michael dropped into a combat stance and aimed a kick at George, but in the confined space it just hit the plastic armrest and splintered it, earning a round of sarcastic applause from the Cherubs sitting nearby.

The coach was a riot all the way down to the coast, with the festivities reaching their height when Ed, already the worse for two cans, managed to get himself locked in the on-board toilet for more than half an hour while everyone who needed to use it pounded on the door and made death threats. It was almost a disappointment when they began seeing signs for Bexhill and Michael came round with a bin bag to collect empties so Denis wouldn't see them.

George was feeling good after a can and a half, (he'd donated the other half to Ed so he could recover from his ordeal in the toilet,) and when Denis unlocked the luggage compartment of the coach and began handing out battered baseball bats, cans of paint, half-bricks, gloves and balaclavas, George felt a rush of excitement. He got his gloves first so he wouldn't leave any traces if he had to abandon the bat, and followed the group of black shirts who were already pulling on balaclavas and heading for the industrial unit they were targeting.

It was his first time on a vandalism mission, so he wasn't exactly sure what to expect. The briefing had said that the site performed repairs to electronics, so George was hoping for some fun stuff to hit with his bat. The site was a ten minute walk from the car park, which Michael used as an opportunity to lob the bag into someone's back garden.

"I wish I was still your age," Michael said, waggling his hand-held document scanner as he looked with longing at George's bat. "I never get to do fun stuff any more."

"Sucks to be you," George replied, giving the bat a test swing. "When you're done I'm sure you'll be able to grab something to do some smashing with."

They arrived at the unit without any problems and someone used their lock gun to open the metal shutters preventing access. With the unit open, the black shirts went in first to locate the office, followed by a surge of younger agents eager to begin the fun. George followed, feeling a touch of nerves, but the adrenaline took over and he headed for a row of machines that looked delicate and began swinging. Most of the equipment in the unit was precision-built and suffered from the blows, but those agents with spray paint had worked out a system for clogging everything up by spraying paint at close range. George joined in a group effort to destroy a large toolbox before following some people through a door, where they hit the jackpot. The next room was full of neatly stacked cardboard boxes, but they nearly all seemed to contain the items to be repaired, mostly televisions and stereo systems. In heaven, George demolished a pile of boxes and listened with satisfaction as piles of delicate electronics smashed onto the floor. As he tried to take another swing, he skidded on a shard of something and almost fell over, but managed to keep his balance.

"Smooth moves," Beatrice said, coming up behind him. "I reckon there's loads more of this stuff at the far end, fancy going after it?"

George didn't need telling twice and followed her through the maze of boxes, occasionally swinging the bat and destroying another box. Somewhere behind him a brick went through a window and the sound of glass breaking was added to the carnage.

Working as a team, they smashed up piles of boxes sitting against the far wall of the unit, which seemed to be items boxed up ready for posting. George worked out that the fastest way to damage stuff was to topple the piles of boxes then destroy them when they were on the ground, while Beatrice sprayed a giant smiley face onto the corrugated metal wall.

Everyone was expecting the police to turn up any moment, and their arrival was heralded by a few short bursts from a siren and blue flashing lights filling the unit.

"We're miles from the way out," George said, looking around. "By the time we get there, the police will be waiting."

Beatrice set off in the opposite direction and George followed, launching his bat as far as he could down the warehouse. She'd spotted a metal gantry that led to a fire exit, with stairs hidden behind some more boxes.

"Excellent," Beatrice said, pushing the door open and finding that no alarm sounded. "Now we've just gotta avoid the police and get back to the car park."

She jumped off the gantry and landed ten feet below, executing a clumsy roll, then waved for George to do the same. He didn't fancy it and ran down the stairs instead. He'd forgotten how crazy Beatrice could get and he suspected she'd also had something to drink.

Having come out of a different exit, George wasn't sure what the most direct route to the coach was, but no matter which direction they moved in, there seemed to be blue flashing lights. It seemed hopeless and George's mind filled with images of being arrested. He was about to ask Beatrice if they should give themselves up when police car raced past, going too fast to notice them, but it was still enough to make George's heart leap into his mouth.

"Got a plan?" he asked Beatrice.

"Nope," she replied, grinning at him. "I think we're screwed."


	2. 2: Ride

**2: Ride**

It seemed to George that the best course of action was just to hand themselves in to the police and make the best of a night in the cells. It wasn't pleasant, but he didn't see any way to escape, and he told Beatrice as much.

"Don't be a wimp," she replied, ducking behind a garden hedge as a siren went past a few streets away.

"You're the one hiding every ten paces," George pointed out, but Beatrice wasn't in the mood to listen. They ducked into a rubbish-filled alleyway and followed it, ignoring the stink. It came out on another road that George didn't recognise, but he realised shortly after he'd stepped out that it was filled with flashing blue light.

Wild images of being arrested flashed through his mind as he tried to duck back into the alleyway, only to run straight into Beatrice and knock her flying. She landed heavily on a metal fence, bending most of the links.

"What was that for?" she said angrily, jumping up again and examining the damage.

"There's a police car right there," George replied urgently. "We've got to leg it, they might have seen us."

Beatrice rolled her eyes. "Why would a policeman just sit on his backside in his car when there's thirty kids running riot? Are you sure there's anyone there?"

George took her point and cautiously poked his head out of the alleyway. The light was bright and made him squint, but as far as he could make out, there was nobody in or around the car.

"I can't believe you pushed me over for nothing," Beatrice tutted, walking out of the alleyway and towards the car. "You're the worst."

Her attitude was getting on George's nerves, but he didn't have any other options for friends at that exact moment so he did his best to ignore it. He followed Beatrice as she walked up to the car and tried the handle, which, to the amazement of both of them, opened.

"Engine's still running," Beatrice said, a smile growing on her face.

"Not a chance," George replied, guessing her train of thought. "If we get picked up after nicking a cop car we'll be looking at punishment back on campus too."

"Who would know?" Beatrice said, tutting. "I knew you'd wimp out."

"I'm not wimping out," George said angrily, "I just don't fancy running hundreds of laps because you're an idiot."

Beatrice just shrugged. "Well, if you won't do it, I will. See you back on campus, loser," she grinned, sliding into the driver's seat and shutting the door.

The only thing George fancied less than being caught driving a stolen panda car was being stranded on his own in the middle of a strange place, so he gave in and pulled the door back open.

"Alright, we'll do it. But I'm driving."

After Beatrice had swapped into the passenger seat, George pulled on his seatbelt and surveyed the car. There was a special switch for the siren and a radio, but otherwise it was fairly standard.

"Where to?" he asked Beatrice as he put the car into gear and slowly rolled away, getting a feel for the pedals.

"Anywhere!" Beatrice giggled, drumming her hands on the dashboard. "Can I use the siren?"

"If you fancy getting arrested instantly, go ahead," George replied, taking a corner slightly too fast and realising with an uncomfortable jolt that the beer he'd drunk earlier was impairing his judgement.

"Let's go to the beach!" Beatrice yelled, winding down the window and sticking her head out.

"You have to direct me," George said, managing to get to a main road. "Stop drawing attention to us."

Beatrice just shrugged. "I have no idea. Follow the signs?"

There was one pointing to the seafront, so George went through an amber light and headed down a wide street with houses down either side. It came out on the road which ran parallel to the beach and he had no idea which direction to turn, so he just picked left since it meant he didn't have to cut across the traffic.

"Best trip ever!" Beatrice grinned, leaning over and flicking on the siren as George did his best to avoid a parked car. The sudden noise made George jump and touch the brake instinctively, giving Beatrice a jolt. He regained control and couldn't help but laugh at the shock on Beatrice's face.

"Do that again and I'll smack you," Beatrice threatened, but George could tell she didn't mean it. With the siren on, the sparse nighttime traffic was pulling over to let them past, which encouraged George to put his foot down a bit and soon the car was touching sixty.

"Go left here!" Beatrice suddenly shouted, causing George to swerve hard, hitting a traffic island and demolishing the plastic bollard.

"Why?" he asked as soon as they were back on the road, shaken by the crash and concerned that they were going to have a proper accident before long.

"I saw a sign for Brighton. I've always wanted to go to Brighton," Beatrice said, grabbing George's arm. "Come on, let's go that way!"

George snatched his arm back. "We need to get back to the coach or we'll be stuck here all night," he said, the near-miss sobering him up a bit. "Any idea where it is?"

Beatrice shook her head, so George just took a guess and headed further inland, trying to spot any familiar landmarks. Another police car turned onto the road ahead of them, giving George a miniature heart attack, but it sped away and George headed in the opposite direction.

"Here, let's get a picture," Beatrice said, pulling out her phone and opening the camera application. "One for the scrapbook."

George just concentrated on the road as Beatrice took a photo, suddenly lighting up the car with the flash.

"Stop that," George said, blinking to try and get his eyes to adjust to the darkness again. "We'll crash and then you'll look really stupid."

Beatrice just stuck her tongue out at him.

After another fifteen minutes of driving around aimlessly and hitting kerbs on every corner they still hadn't found the coach, so George decided to cut their losses and abandon the car. He followed signs to the railway station and pulled into a side turning as soon as they were getting close.

"Come on, get out," George said, switching off the lights and jumping out. "We'll try and get a train to London."

Beatrice was sluggish undoing her seatbelt and George thought she was being deliberately difficult, but when he skirted around the car to pull her out, she staggered out of the car and vomited all over the pavement.

"That's disgusting," George said, leaping back.

Beatrice wiped her mouth on her sleeve and shrugged. "Better out than in."

"You're crazy," George said, shaking his head. "Remind me never to go anywhere with you if there's alcohol involved."

Beatrice still looked unwell, so George hooked his arm under her shoulder and helped her walk back down the road.

"You know, they can probably trace you from the sick?" he said, laughing.

Beatrice just nodded vacantly. "Whatever. I want something to drink."

"We'll get water from a vending machine somewhere," George said, taking a pedestrian walkway that arched over the road and took them to the station. "Let's just make ourselves scarce first."

"What time is it?" Beatrice asked.

George checked his watch. "Five to midnight. The coach will be leaving soon."

"I wonder if everyone else got back okay?"

"I doubt it. There were police absolutely everywhere," George told her. "I'd still prefer being here than being in a cell."

They had to pause for a second while Beatrice was sick again, puking over the railing and down onto the road below.

"Classy," George laughed.

There were no trains running towards London until five a.m., but there were signs for a bus station five minutes away, so after buying drinks from a machine, they caught the next bus back to London. George's head was pounding by the time they'd boarded the bus and Beatrice reeked of sick, which was turning his stomach too. He sat and sipped water while Beatrice slept, watching the dark countryside going past. The bus took a tortuous route, going along the coast first before heading for London, but by the time they were due to get to the capital there would be trains heading for campus. George didn't fancy the probable tongue-lashing they'd get when asking someone to come and collect them from the station first thing in the morning, but so long as they didn't smell any alcohol and nobody found out about the police car, they'd probably get off with a couple of hours of cleaning duty.

Beatrice turned and dug her elbow into him, so he got up and let her lie down across the back seats, moving so he could sit where he wasn't constantly getting a noseful of the acidic stench of sick.

They grabbed breakfast from an all-night fast food place once they arrived in London and spent ten minutes sitting in silence, feeling exhausted and watching the repeating headlines on the 24-hour news.

"What's the plan for the rest of the trip?" Beatrice asked. She'd perked up after sleeping on the bus, and given that George had missed a night's sleep, she was considerably more alert than he was.

"We get a train, ring campus and get them to send someone to pick us up. We should be back well before lunchtime, assuming they don't haul us in for a roasting first. I'm planning to get plenty of sleep," George said, rubbing one eye as he sipped a jumbo coffee.

"Sounds perfect," Beatrice said, nibbling delicately at a bagel. "I think the mission went well, overall."

She shot him a look which said she was joking, but George was too knackered to take the bait and just nodded.

"So which tube line do we want?" Beatrice asked.

"The Victoria then the Hammersmith & City," George replied wearily.

"It's amazing that you don't have to look at a map," Beatrice said, taking another bite.

"I did live here, you know," George replied, stretching and suppressing a yawn. "For over nine years."

"Yeah, but you can't have got the tube that much by yourself when you were six or seven or whatever," Beatrice said.

"I just memorised the lines when I was travelling with my mum," George told her. "When you've got nothing to do but sit quietly for twenty minutes, it's easy enough to just stare at the map until you know it."

"Amazing," Beatrice repeated. "Can you recite every station on each line or something?"

George shrugged. "Maybe if I thought about it."

"Try now."

"It's first thing in the morning and I haven't slept. The last thing I want to do is perform for you," George replied, shaking his head.

Beatrice seemed disappointed, but George was finding it hard to keep his eyes open and her feelings were the last thing he cared about.

Any hopes they'd had of an easy arrival back on campus with minimal fuss were blown apart when they climbed into a hatchback, driven by Ewart Asker, upon arrival at the station nearest campus.

"You'll be pleased to know you're the last ones back," he said, sounding like he was in a good mood. George stretched out across the back seats, hoping for an hour's sleep while Beatrice sat in the front.

"I expected that," Beatrice said, shrugging. "Did anyone get arrested?"

"A few, but we got them out and on their way back after a couple of hours," Ewart replied. "Anyway, being the husband of the chairwoman does mean I sometimes overhear the odd thing, so I thought I'd do the decent thing and let the two of you know that you'll be in Zara's office as soon as you get back."

His tone sent ice down George's spine. "What for?" he asked, trying to sound innocent.

"I gather she was on the phone to someone important, but beyond that is anyone's guess," Ewart said, grinning. "All I know is that she pretty angry. I expect it'll be uncomfortable for you two, no doubt."

George didn't want to see Ewart's grinning face for any longer than he had to, so he covered his face with his arms and tried to drop off, his thoughts constantly finding their way back to just exactly how many laps might be in his future.


	3. 3: Summer

**3: Summer**

Ewart dropped them off opposite the main building on campus.

"Go straight in," he said. "She'll probably be waiting."

"Can't I go back to my room and get changed?" Beatrice asked. "I still stink of sick."

Ewart thought for a moment. "Right, in that case, you should both go and get changed into clean uniforms before going down to see the chairwoman. I'm sure she'll understand you not wanting to make her office smell."

George would have preferred a six-hour nap followed by a leisurely lunch, but he wasn't about to argue, so he got out of the car and slammed the door rather harder than necessary and set off at a walk.

"Meet you at the lift in fifteen?" Beatrice asked, catching up with him.

"Yeah, I don't fancy going down by myself," George replied. "Any guesses how much trouble we're in?"

Beatrice laughed, but it sounded forced. "We'll find out."

A two minute shower and fresh set of clothes later, George and Beatrice made their way down to the chairwoman's office. Both of them had been in there before to be handed punishments, but they'd still made an extra effort to look smart and Beatrice had found time to brush her hair.

"Wait here, please," the receptionist said as they approached, pointing to a couple of soft chairs against the wall. George had been expecting to go straight in, so he was surprised to be asked to wait.

"She's just finishing with the others," the receptionist explained curtly before going back to typing something on her computer.

There was a no talking rule when you were sitting outside Zara's office, so George and Beatrice just had to exchange meaningful glances. The office itself was soundproofed so that nobody could overhear top-secret conversations, so the room was silent except for the tapping of the receptionist's keyboard.

It took ten minutes before the door to the office opened, followed by a column of Cherubs trooping out, all looking miserable. George recognised most of them from the mission. but when he spotted Letty and caught her eye, but she just shrugged at him and walked off.

"George, Beatrice, come in," Zara said sharply once everyone had left, standing in the doorway looking unhappy.

With a sinking feeling, George realised that he and Beatrice were in the worst possible position. Zara was known for being inconsistent with her punishments, and usually the more tired and irritable she was, the worse they got. After spending half an hour lecturing everyone else, she was in the worst possible mood for handing out punishments.

George and Beatrice sat down opposite Zara, both shrinking into their chairs as they caught sight of Zara's expression. She waited until the door had clicked shut before saying anything, and when she finally did, everything about her tone chilled George to the bone. He'd always known Zara as sounding friendly, or occasionally exasperated, but now she spoke quietly and in a businesslike manner which was more effective than the loudest shouting.

"CHERUB received a phone call from Sussex Police this morning. As I'm sure you're aware, a squad car mysteriously disappeared last night and turned up four miles away, with a mangled front impact bumper and a lump of a bollard wedged in the chassis. This bollard appears to match a totally destroyed one close to the seafront. Normally they would have written this off as an opportunist joyrider and we'd have pulled the investigation, but a smart cop retrieved DNA evidence from the car which took him to a classified database. Every time a search is logged on this database, the heads of the security services are notified. I have had some very embarrassing explaining to do to some of my colleagues about why two twelve-year-olds were caught on CCTV roaming the streets in a stolen police car and why they had to take time out of their busy schedules to find out about it.

"While nobody is prepared to admit it, I have good evidence that some of you, if not all of you, were drinking alcohol, and I should not need to impress upon you the fact that drink-driving is extremely dangerous, especially in an unfamiliar car in an unfamiliar area. I personally consider it a minor miracle that you didn't have a more serious accident, or worse, injure a member of the public."

"There was hardly anyone around-" Beatrice interrupted, but stopped when Zara gave her a glare.

"I don't care if there was hardly anyone around," Zara replied, slamming her hand onto the tabletop. "If you'd killed someone or yourselves you'd have seriously endangered the existence of CHERUB and all of the good work being done right this second by your fellow Cherubs who are away on missions. To me, that is a serious lack of respect. If I had my way, drink-driving would be on the list of things that could get you expelled from CHERUB, especially when it is totally unnecessary like this. I have no qualms about telling you two that if I had my way, you two would be packing your bags and making a one-way trip out of the door."

George and Beatrice were in shock. George had heard expulsion threats before, but it was a totally different matter when the chairwoman was saying she wished you'd been thrown out. There were a few seconds of silence as Zara surveyed the pair of them before continuing.

"As it is, and despite both of you having shaky disciplinary records, when I rang the ethics committee earlier this morning, they mostly supported the two of you remaining as CHERUB agents. It goes without saying that an incident like this must never, ever happen again, and the two of you are on your final warnings. If I see you in my office ever again for a punishment, mark my words, you will be expelled. Is that absolutely clear?"

George nodded, but Beatrice didn't move. George could see her hand shaking slightly on the arm of the chair.

"Now, your punishments. Obviously both of you have lost your hostel privileges this summer and you'll both be suspended from missions for six months. Additionally, you'll both be confined to campus and will be expected to do a three-hour shift in the recycling centre every day for the duration of your suspensions. Both of you will be expected to attend a six-lecture series on the danger of addictive substances, which, I understand, comes with a fifty-page project at the end, and George, since you were actually behind the wheel, you're banned from any vehicle-related activities on campus until this is completed."

It didn't take much thought for George to realise that he was in the most trouble of his entire life and that the punishment reflected this. The next six months were going to be miserable and he knew he only had himself to blame, which only worsened his mood.

Zara finally broke into a smile, but it did nothing to reassure George, since the smile was not a friendly one.

"Finally, I understand how hard it can be, being stuck on campus during the summer hostel trips, so the two of you will be departing for recruitment missions come tomorrow morning. Beatrice, you'll be heading for Southport, near Liverpool, and George, you'll be moving into a childrens' home in Barking, east London. You'll get your briefings when you get there, and perhaps while you're there you'll reflect on his you could have been going to the Mediterranean instead. Any questions?"

George and Beatrice said nothing, so Zara pointed to the door.

"Now get out, and remember; if you're back in here any time in the next six years, you're out for good."

It was still early on Sunday morning, so most of the other Cherubs were still in bed, meaning that nobody was around as they made their way back to their rooms in a daze. The enormity of his upcoming punishment still hadn't sunk in by the time he was walking down the corridor to his room, having got all the way back without saying a word to Beatrice.

"Oh, I thought it might be you. What happened?" Letty asked as he approached, sticking her head out from her bedroom door.

George just shook his head. He was in no mood for the typical Cherub attitude of making fun of other people's punishments.

"I knew it! You did something stupid again!" Letty grinned, punching the air. "I knew you couldn't go on a straightforward mission without doing something you regretted."

George ignored her, but the smug grin on her face was too much to bear. "Why don't you just shut up for a change? Nobody cares about your stupid bloody opinions," he snapped, fumbling with his door key. "Go and find someone who cares."

"You don't have to act like a five-year-old," Letty replied hotly, giving him a vicious punch in the back just as he got the door open.

Spinning around, George lashed out with a kick, but Letty dodged it and he overbalanced, falling backwards and cracking his head on the door handle.

Letting out a sudden laugh, Letty covered her mouth and tried to act shocked, but George was beyond reconciliation. He swore loudly, trying to see if his head was bleeding, but when Letty reached over to help him up, he slapped her hand away.

"You can stick it, Letty. Don't bother talking to me again," he raged, slamming his bedroom door in her shocked face before locking it and throwing himself onto his bed. He felt like crying and punching things simultaneously, but he thought he was too old to be crying and his head was absolutely killing him. With nothing else to do, he just lay on his bed, face buried in the pillow, trying not to think about anything.

After he'd calmed down a bit, he took a long shower and made sure that the bump on his head was nothing more than that. Twenty minutes relaxing took the edge off the pain, so afterwards he felt well enough to cook some instant burritos in the microwave and ate them in front of the TV. Someone knocked on the door, but he just ignored it, and after a while he closed the curtains and went back to bed, falling asleep before he could think very much more about his miserable future.

He woke up in a daze just before dinner, but he didn't want to go to the cafeteria because he knew he'd get nothing but jokes at his expense. Instead he made more burritos and sat under his duvet playing FIFA on his PlayStation, taking out his frustrations by playing on the easiest difficulty and firing thirteen goals past a hopeless Chelsea side. He got involved in a campaign and ended up whiling away the entire evening guiding QPR to a league and cup double. He didn't feel tired enough to go to sleep when it got late, so once he'd got bored of FIFA he channel-hopped until he found a dodgy reality show. He dug out his phone and ignored all of the messages from his friends, only reading the one which said he'd be getting a lift to the station at 9am sharp the following morning. Sulking wasn't cool but he couldn't handle explaining himself to anyone, especially after being nasty to Letty. Grudgingly, he set his alarm for eight and snuggled back under his duvet, feeling increasingly miserable by the minute. It seemed impossible to think that less than forty-eight hours earlier he'd been sitting in the sun, wondering if life could possibly get any better. He'd completely blown it, and it wasn't the first time, so he couldn't help but thinking if it wasn't inevitable for him to do something else stupid before long and get himself kicked out. He didn't think he'd be able to handle living a normal school life, especially since he'd have to make new friends and actually learn to behave himself. That idea was almost worse than six months suspended from missions, so he decided to make the best of it and try not to do anything that could get him thrown out. Then he again remembered with a jolt what he'd done to Letty and felt miserable all over again.


	4. 4: Recruit

**4: Recruit**

Still anxious to avoid anyone who might take the mickey, George packed everything and took his suitcase down to the cafeteria with him, hoping to grab a flying breakfast and be on his way to the car pool before anyone noticed him.

He was just gulping down a tall glass of orange juice when he spotted Rex and Jemima walking through the door, still wearing civilian clothing.

"Hey, long time no see!" Rex said, strolling over with Jemima in tow. "Off somewhere?"

George shrugged. "I've been handed a recruitment mission down in London, so I expect I'll be gone for the next couple of weeks."

This was news to Rex, who looked shocked, but Jemima had heard from Letty and didn't have any sympathy.

"The way I hear it, you've been shut up in your room being miserable for the past day," she said, sounding smug. "Way to go."

George wasn't in the mood and just ignored her, addressing Rex instead.

"You'll hear all about it from the others, no doubt, and I've got to run so I won't go into details. How did the mission go?"

Rex nodded. "Pretty well. I'm not hopeful for a navy shirt, but you never know."

"Well, if it helps, we've managed to put Zara into a seriously bad mood over the weekend, so it doesn't seem likely," George grinned. "Anyway I'll be late unless I run. I'll catch up with you as soon as I'm back."

"Send me an email?" Rex suggested, grabbing a plastic tray as George headed for the door.

"Will do," George replied without looking round.

One of the worst parts about being a Cherub was the fact that you could sometimes go for months without seeing your best friends, but George still didn't want to own up to what he'd done so he was pleased to get away without having to go into it. Not being able to hang out with Rex over the summer, and the upcoming hostel trip, was part of his punishment designed to make him feel miserable and it was definitely working. He couldn't shake off his funk all the way to the station.

"Alright, so you've got enough money?" the white-shirt who'd driven him asked when he pulled up to let George out.

"Should do," George replied.

"You're scheduled to meet with an ex-Cherub who works in social services sometime close to lunchtime. They'll be waiting for you at the children's home."

"No problem. I've got a map," George replied, grabbing his suitcase and hopping out of the minibus.

"Good luck," he heard at the minibus pulled out of the short-stay parking, getting a blast on the horn from an irate mother in a people carrier.

George hurried across the car park to the station frontage and used a machine to buy a one-way ticket to London. The next train left in fifteen minutes and he hadn't eaten properly, so he bought a sandwich from a dodgy-looking window and then fed coins into a vending machine until he'd got chocolate bars and crisps for the journey. It occurred to him that, with plenty of cash and a suitcase full of clothes, he could skip his midday meeting and just run away from CHERUB, but further thought showed that he'd probably end up in more trouble and undoubtedly in a children's home anyway, so he waited on the platform and wondered for the millionth time why he couldn't behave himself when it mattered.

London was grey and there were a few spots of rain, so George got straight onto the tube and made his way east, liking the familiarity of the stations that they stopped at. Any thoughts he had about whether or not his mum would approve of his troublemaking were swept aside when the train reached Barking and he hopped off, using the map on his phone to try and find out exactly where the children's home was. It had started raining properly and didn't look like it was going to stop, so he braved the rain and headed out towards what he thought was the right route.

He got lost twice and ended up getting wetter than he'd expected, so when he spotted the sign that said 'Welcome to Alexandra House', he was relieved.

Nobody seemed to answer when he knocked, and he was about to go and see if there was a different entrance when the door finally opened.

There was a middle-aged woman in the doorway, wearing fluffy slippers and a dirty t-shirt.

"How can I help you?" she asked, sounding tired.

George pulled out his phone and double checked the name. "I'm supposed to meet… Helen Davies?"

"Ah, Helen. I'll just go and get her. You can come in," the lady said, opening the door so that George could get out of the rain and drip onto the welcome mat. He shut the door behind him and pushed his suitcase out of the way, running a hand through his hair to see how wet it was.

It only took thirty seconds for a different lady to appear, this time in her early thirties with a fashionable perm, so George had only just finished hanging up his coat on a peg.

"George? Pleased to meet you," she said, shaking his hand. "I wasn't expecting you for another half an hour."

"Trains all ran on time," George replied. "Makes a change."

"You'd better come into my office," she replied, leading the way past a clean kitchen and into a smart office. Alexandra House was a converted Victorian building with four stories, but any of the original grand interior had been replaced by cheap fittings and shabby carpets. The office looked good, but the varnish was coming off the desk and the potted plants looked as if they'd died years ago.

"Sit down. Sorry about the rain; If you're feeling particularly wet I can take you to your room first," Helen said, sitting down behind the desk after she'd shut the door.

"I'm alright, don't worry," George said, taking a seat in the chair opposite and trying not to stare too obviously at the worn patches of the carpet.

Helen pulled a file out of the desk drawer and handed it to him. "This will be a fairly routine recruitment mission, I'm sure. All of the children who live here are in that file, so take a look through it this afternoon and see if there are any you think look promising. It's obviously confidential, but everyone is out on a shopping trip this afternoon so you shouldn't be disturbed for a couple of hours."

"Lovely," George said insincerely, getting a stern look from Helen.

"As a CHERUB liaison I'm also responsible for going into other homes in east London and trying to identify any possible recruits, so if there's nobody here, I'll try and move you to another home so you can have a fresh set of faces."

George nodded. "No problem. I'll see what I can do here."

"Good man. We're hoping to take him or her back to campus for tests in ten days to a fortnight if all goes well. Until then you'll be the newest resident of Alexandra House, so I'd like to be the first to welcome you."

Her attitude was cheerful, but George got the impression that most of the other kids weren't going to be as happy to see the new kid. He could handle himself, but there was always a bully who wasn't happy until he'd tried to rip everyone off and George wasn't looking forward to it.

"So what is there to do around here?" George asked Helen.

"We haven't bothered to enrol you in the local school, but if anyone asks you'll be joining it in September. Otherwise, breakfast is from seven until nine, you can make your own lunch, and dinner is at six. There are some summer activities written on the whiteboard in the lounge if you want to take part in any of those, and we've also got a pool table and some sports equipment outside. I'm sure you'll find stuff to do, especially since most of the children get bored over the holidays."

George let Helen take him to his new room, which was split in half with two small-looking beds. One side looked as if it belonged to someone about George's age, with a tatty laptop sitting on the bed and posters of emo bands torn out from magazines tacked to the walls. The other side was bare, so George dumped his suitcase on the bed there.

"I'll leave you to get comfortable. Let me have the file back when you're done," Helen said, giving him a jaunty wave before heading back downstairs.

No fan of the ultra-positive attitude, George ignored her and pushed the door to before unpacking his suitcase. He wasn't anticipating being there for longer than a couple of weeks, so he'd only packed a few clothes, his own laptop and a pair of football boots. They'd all been put away in two minutes, so George used the time to lazily flick through the file he'd been given and surf the internet on his phone, trying to work out which of the many faces would belong to his new roommate.

Nobody was back by the time George got hungry and sauntered downstairs to make himself some lunch. There were a lot of healthy options, like egg and cress sandwiches and a big bowl of fruit on the table, but George was too lazy to eat anything like that and preferred to tuck into his third packet of crisps that day, washing it down with orange squash.

"All done with the file," he said once he was back in Helen's office.

"Any joy?" she asked, taking off a pair of glasses that she wore while she was working on the computer.

"Most of them have some family or something that disqualifies them, but there's one kid, Dougie someone-or-other, who looked alright."

"Ah, Dougie Polson. Yes, he's very bright, but quite shy."

"It says so in his file, but he's the best of the bunch."

Helen nodded. "Right, well I'm sure you'll meet him this afternoon, so you can see what you think."

"Sounds good."

Just as George was thinking about going into the lounge to see what there was to do, the front door opened and and he heard lots of voices on their way in. Not really wanting to meet everyone in the house in one go, he headed back upstairs, planning to start with his roommate and go from there. If they hit it off, he'd probably have a good way of getting introduced to everyone else.

He took a seat on his bed and idly played with his phone. He'd put a fresh SIM into it for the mission, which meant it didn't have the numbers of any of his friends from campus, but it still had all his games and he was just wondering if he should get into one when the door opened.

"Hi," he said, getting up as a boy the same height as him walked in with a suspicious look. "I'm George."

"I'm Kev," the boy replied, chucking his coat onto the floor next to his bed.

"Nice to meet you," George said, shoving his phone back into his pocket, but Kev just ignored him and put his wallet carefully away in a cash box, which he locked and put under his bed.

"Dangerous around here, is it?" George joked.

"If you don't want some nut to come in here and nick all of your stuff, then you take precautions," Kev replied, looking at George like he was an idiot.

"Alright, I was only asking," George replied, holding up his hands. "I only got here a couple of hours ago so I was hoping you could show me around or something? You know, the best stuff to do and that."

Kev shook his head. "Do it yourself. There's barely anything to see anyway."

George wasn't getting anywhere, so he just sat back down on the bed and went back to his phone, ignoring Kev who pulled out a pair of headphones and started listening to some sort of heavy metal loud enough for George to hear.

Not wanting to cause a scene, George headed out of the room, planning to go to the lounge and see if there was anyone more friendly knocking about. He was halfway down the staircase when a little kid who he recognised as his chosen target, Dougie, came bursting up the stairs and almost ran into him.

"Sorry," Dougie said breathlessly, not stopping as he raced past. Hot on his heels was a tough-looking teenager, who managed to grab a handful of Dougie's sweatshirt as he passed George. He looked angry and bundled Dougie into the wall, but before he did anything he gave George a nasty look.

"Piss off unless you want a smack," he snarled, gripping Dougie more tightly.

It was the perfect opportunity for George to ingratiate himself with Dougie by rescuing him, but before he could do anything more than take a step forward, a girl appeared and gave the thug a hard punch in the arm.

"Get off him you jackass," she said, swinging her fists wildly, taking George by surprise. Dougie managed to wriggle free and hid behind the girl.

The boy tried to swing a punch, but the girl was still a whirl of anger and managed to kick him in the balls before he could make any contact. Doubling up in pain, he slumped to the floor.

"You want some too?" the girl asked George, bunching up a fist and advancing towards him.

"No, I was just standing here," George replied, backing off. "I literally only arrived here this morning."

The girl seemed satisfied by this and dragged Dougie into one of the bedrooms, leaving George with the guy who was in pain. George didn't fancy helping him, so left him to it and headed downstairs as planned, a little bit disappointed that a gold-coated chance to help Dougie had gone begging.


	5. 5: Tomboy

**5: Tomboy**

After dinner, which was bangers and mash, everyone mostly went back to their bedrooms for the evening. George didn't fancy hanging around with his boring roommate, so he was planning to join a couple of girls who were sitting in front of the TV. To his excitement he discovered that the TV had a PlayStation 3 hooked up, but there was a piece of paper attached to the TV with a rota so everyone got a turn, and it was booked solidly for the next week.

With nothing better to do, George sifted through the games in the rack next to the screen. They were mostly rubbish made for little kids, but he spotted a couple of decent-looking games for the PlayStation 2 and wondered whether they still had the console around somewhere.

"If you're looking for the rest of the games, they're in the rec room upstairs," one of the girls said, waving her hand to tell him to get out of the way of the TV. "It's mostly the little kids who go there, though."

George nodded his thanks and headed upstairs, not hopeful but at a loss for anything else to do. The rec room was in the attic, which had been converted, and George got a thrill from having to go up a flight of stairs that were behind a door.

The downstairs lounge seemed to be designed for teenagers, with a bigger TV and a pool table, but the rec room was obviously aimed at the younger kids. There was a big box full of Lego and George spotted a few plastic tubs which looked like they were filled with the kind of knackered toys that most people gave away to charity. He felt a little out of place, especially since there were two little girls alternating between staring at him and pushing around an aged-looking pink car. However, he spotted an old CRT-type television sitting in the corner with a few old wired controllers lying around, and figured that there was nothing wrong with having a look.

George was usually into shooting games, but the best thing on offer was an elderly-looking racing game. It was surprisingly fun and was working his way through the career mode when he realised that someone was stood behind him watching. He didn't take much notice, but it was enough to distract him and he skidded into the gravel trap.

"You need to brake more," the person behind him said, so George paused it and looked around. He was pleasantly surprised to see Dougie standing there, but the younger boy cringed when George looked at him and went silent.

"Why don't you show me?" George suggested, holding out the controller. "If you think you're so good."

Dougie didn't say anything for a few seconds, but he eventually reached out and grabbed the controller before unpausing the game and expertly getting the car back onto the track. George shuffled up so he could sit down, and within five minutes Dougie was in full flow, explaining the finer points of the track and zipping past the computer-controlled cars with ease.

"You're pretty good," George said, impressed. "How did you get so good?"

Dougie shrugged. "I don't know. Whenever they buy a new game for the PS3 you have to queue for hours just to get ten minutes on it, and since I'm one of the youngest someone always tries to cheat me out of my turn. That's why I play up here all the time."

"I hate people like that," George said, shrugging. "What can you do?"

"They sometimes ask me to do the hard levels, though, so it's not all bad. My name's Dougie," he added hurriedly, not looking away from the screen.

George laughed. "PlayStation prodigy, huh? I'm George. Just got here this morning."

Dougie didn't reply, concentrating on taking a hairpin corner and finishing the race in a respectable third, considering that he'd taken over from George in last place.

They started playing multiplayer, which, despite George's best efforts, resulted in Dougie easily beating him time and again.

"I give up. You're too good," George said, dropping the controller onto the floor beside him.

Dougie seemed to like the compliment, but with George not playing he seemed stuck for anything to do.

"Any other good games up here?" George asked, browsing the disappointingly-small pile.

"You should play this one. It doesn't have multiplayer, though," Dougie said, pulling out a cartoony-looking game. "I've completed it twice already."

George let him load it into the machine and settled back with the controller, pleased he'd broken the ice.

They played through the story mode until it was Dougie's bedtime. George promised to play again tomorrow and tidied up the controllers as Dougie dashed off to his room. George wasn't in such a hurry and as he descended the stairs it seemed like there was nobody about. He wondered if there was a rule that everyone had to stay in their rooms after a certain time, but before he'd given it much thought he almost walked into the girl he'd seen protecting Dougie earlier.

"Sorry," George said, but she didn't budge and just stared at him.

"Got a problem?" she said, giving him the evil eye.

"What?" George replied, confused. "I was just going back to my room."

"I mean with Dougie. What's your game?"

George paused, wondering whether the girl was insane or just weird. She looked older than him and had a blonde tomboyish hairstyle that suggested you'd get a punch for making fun of her.

"Most new kids who come here don't give him a second look. What is it with you, trying to set him up for a fall?" she asked, still staring at him. "Want to rip him off? Smack him about?"

George shook his head vigorously. "No way! I was just playing some games with him. Nothing like that."

"If you lay even a finger on him, I'll give you the beating of your life, understand?" she growled.

"Yeah, it's cool. You don't have to worry about me," George said, lifting his hands in a non-threatening way. "I'm a peaceful guy."

The girl ignored him and pushed past. George shook his head again, wondering what her problem was, and headed back to his room, not exactly relishing a boring evening sat on his bed with nothing much to do. Even homework seemed appealing.

It only took an hour of lying around trying to concentrate on his phone for the endless tinny music coming from the other side of the room to drive him insane. He jumped up and tapped Kev on the shoulder.

"Turn it down a bit, it's bloody annoying," George said loudly.

Kev just gave him the finger and turned up the volume a bit more.

George grabbed the headphones and ripped them out of the mp3 player. "Oi, I said turn it down."

Kev gave George a shove and snatched his headphones back. "It's not bothering me," he sneered.

"Just turn it down. It's not hard," George said, trying to make peace, but Kev just plugged the headphones back in at maximum volume.

Starting to boil over, George picked up the mp3 player and pocketed it. "I've had enough."

Kev jumped up and gave George a hard push. "Give it back now or I'll batter you," he snarled.

"Come on then, if you want a bit," George said, acting cocky. "Punch me and I'll smash your mp3 player."

This didn't deter Kev, who leapt towards George and tried tackling him to the ground. George was easily stronger than a weedy kid more into heavy metal than exercise, but he fell awkwardly onto the wardrobe and cracked his elbow. The pain fuelled his anger and he shoved Kev off, catching him with a hard kick in the back. Kev came at him again, swinging his fists, but George dodged them and swept his legs away, sending him falling painfully to the floor. Realising that Kev wasn't going to let up, George grabbed a flailing arm and pulled it into a lock.

"Stop fighting me and I won't break your arm," George said, pulling it a little tighter.

"You can get stuffed if you think-" Kev started, but he was cut off when George gave him a nasty punch in the back of the head. He seemed a little dazed, but the door flew open and Helen stepped in before anything else could happen.

"Break it up," she commanded, looking fierce. George knew she was an ex-Cherub and while they didn't all keep up their fitness regimes after they left, it was still enough to make him release Kev and send him sprawling onto the floor again.

"George, go to my office and wait there," she said, pulling Kev to his feet with a concerned expression.

Shrugging petulantly, George turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, feeling that Kev had definitely deserved everything he'd got. To make things better, he still had Kev's mp3 player in his pocket, and he considered flinging it down the stairs, but thought better of it. It would make for a nice reconciliation present if it came to that.

Halfway down the stairs he met the same girl again, coming the other way. This time her expression was less murderous.

"Did you have a fight with Kevin?" she asked, noticing George's rumpled clothes and guilty expression. Her tone was more friendly and George was relieved.

"Yeah, but he had it coming. Wouldn't turn his music down," George said.

"He's had it coming a while. He's a total loser on his own, but at school he hangs around with a bunch of older guys who are seriously hard, so he just get them to beat up anyone he doesn't like. He's all mouth," she explained, giving him an unexpected smile.

George nodded. "Think they'll come looking for me?"

"I doubt it. They might act as if they like Kevin, but really they just think he's annoying."

Relieved, George smiled. "That's good. I didn't fancy getting stabbed by some metalhead nutter."

"Helen's sent you to her office, right? Afterwards, come to my room. It's on the top floor, can't miss it," she said before pushing past again and going up the stairs. George watched her go, marvelling at the difference in her attitude after just an hour.

One telling-off by Helen later, during which she reminded him that while he may only be here for ten days, everyone else has to live here and that she could have him sent back to campus at any time, George headed to the top floor, preferring anything to going back to his own room. Being thrown off a recruitment mission would certainly be the end of his career as a Cherub so he made a strong mental note not to put another foot wrong.

George had no idea which room he was looking for, but of the three top-floor rooms, only one had a girl's name on it. The name 'Leah' was painted in flowery watercolours on a yellowed piece of paper, and George stared at it as he knocked.

When the door opened, he couldn't resist.

"What a delightful piece of art," he said, cracking a grin as Leah gave him a look that could crack stone.

"I made it when I first came here, which was eight years ago, so leave me alone," she said, letting him into the room and sticking one corner of the paper back down where it had curled away from the white tack holding it onto the door.

The room was tiny, with barely enough room for a bed and a bookshelf, but it had the one thing nowhere ever had in children's homes; privacy.

"They moved me in here because I kept fighting with anyone who shared with me," Leah said proudly. "It's been mine for the past three years and I'm keeping it."

George sat down on a beanbag which was squeezed into practically the only floor space. "Cosy."

"So what did Helen do to you?"

George shrugged. "She said it was probably because I was still adjusting and so she just told me not to do it again," he lied. "No big deal, I've had way worse."

"At your last care home?" Leah asked, sitting on her bed with her legs folded.

George nodded. "Yeah."

"Was it rough? Is that why you've got muscles?" Leah asked, giving him an admiring look that George was too dense to notice.

"It was okay. Some hard cases, though," he said, drawing on his only previous experience of a children's home, which was shortly after his mum died. "I did fine."

George knew Leah was tough, but he'd heard horror stories of seriously nasty homes with people getting stabbed or robbed and he could tell there was a trace of anxiety in her voice when she asked.

"Want sweets or something? I've got a whole pile up here," Leah said, pointing to a supermarket carrier bag full of junk food. "If you tell anyone, though, I'll kick your butt."

George laughed and helped himself to a packet. "Nice one. Looks like you're all set up here. All I've got in my room is some clothes and an arsehole for a roommate."

Leah laughed. "Money is so hard to get here. They give you next to nothing in pocket money, so I have to make my own."

George had been at CHERUB long enough to know that she was doing something illegal, but he'd known her for ten minutes so he didn't ask, changing the subject onto what kind of music she liked but keeping that fact for later. He was pleased to have made a friend who was older than nine that he could actually talk to.


	6. 6: Cushy

**6: Cushy**

Letty swiped her coveted yellow card through the machine, granting her access to the mission preparation building. If you were assigned cleaning duty or you just had to go into the building for an errand, you used a staff pass, which were coloured blue, so every single Cherub was jealous of the yellow cards given only to agents who'd been assigned missions. Letty had already been on three proper missions so she was far from a first-timer, but there was still a thrill every time she stepped into the carpeted hallway and looked at the rows of offices with the names of mission controllers on them. Most of the important people had spacious offices on the upper floors, but Letty headed for the last office on the ground floor, crammed into a space which looked like it might have originally been a storage room.

She knocked on the door but got an immediate reply, so she let herself in.

"Hi Letty, how's it going?" Julian Richardson asked as she shut the door behind her. He was universally known as Jules and despite a stiff and formal appearance, his floppy hair and snappy dress sense had given him a cult following amongst some of the girls on campus. Letty didn't count herself in this group, but as she took a seat he flashed her a smile which made her question her decision.

"Hi Jules," she replied, spotting a folder sitting on the desk. "Finally get the briefings?"

Jules nodded. "I spent all day yesterday hashing it out with my opposite number at MI5. They're like headless chickens over there; I tell you, they'll all be breathing a giant sigh of relief once the Olympics are over."

Letty nodded. "I can imagine." She'd spent the past week meeting with Jules for something called a suitability assessment, which seemed to mostly be Jules asking her questions and e-mailing the responses to someone at the MI5 office in London. However, she still wasn't totally sure what the mission was about, except that it was going to be solo and it was to do with the upcoming Olympic Games being held in less than a week in London.

"Anyway, take a peek and let me know what you think," Jules said, passing over the file. "I don't need an immediate yes or no, but the sooner I know the sooner we can get the show on the road."

_**CLASSIFIED**_

_MISSION BRIEFING FOR LETTICIA KATZ_

_THIS DOCUMENT IS PROTECTED WITH A RADIO_

_FREQUENCY IDENTIFICATION TAG._

_ANY ATTEMPT TO REMOVE IT FROM THE MISSION_

_PREPARATION BUILDING WILL SET OFF AN ALARM._

_DO NOT PHOTOCOPY OR MAKE NOTES._

_London 2012 Summer Olympics_

_From 27th July to 12th August 2012, the eye of the world will be on London as it hosts the thirtieth summer Olympic Games. Over ten thousand athletes and more than a hundred times as many spectators will be in London, along with various VIPs from around the globe. Almost all of the world's media will be present, which means that it is imperative for the city, and the United Kingdom as a whole, to ensure the safety of everyone involved._

_Security Operation_

_To ensure the safe and smooth running of the Games, the British security services have begun a country-wide security operation. This involves checking the backgrounds of some 500,000 people and is taking up the vast majority of the time and resources of the security organisations. It is important, therefore, that every resource available is put into use to reduce the pressure on central services. During the Games themselves, all athletes, dignitaries and other officials will require security personnel twenty-four hours a day, and as a result, CHERUB has been asked to help._

_CHERUB's Role_

_A number of missions are being set up where agents will be asked to perform a variety of tasks relating to the security operation. These may range from long-term infiltrations of suspected terrorist organisations within the UK to short-term security roles protecting high-profile targets. Each of these have been carefully selected to ensure that they could not have been done by an adult, as due to the high-pressure circumstances of the Games, any security breach would be catastrophic for the continued existence of CHERUB._

_Diplomacy and International Relations_

_Due to the fact that many of the high-profile visitors to the UK may speak about diplomatically sensitive information during their stay in London, MI5 is keen to stress that __under no circumstances_ _should espionage of foreign persons be undertaken, unless the threat is deemed critical. Any diplomatic incident involving British citizens spying on foreign dignitaries would have serious repercussions and a situation such as this must be avoided at all costs._

_Terrorism in Spain_

_Spain has suffered a number of destructive terrorist attacks in the past few decades, as well as political pressure and demonstrations. The declining economy, coupled with separatist movements, have made Spain much less politically stable than in historic times, and like much of Western Europe, Spain has suffered Islamic terrorist attacks. It is as a result of this that the British government considers Spanish figures in the United Kingdom as 'at risk'; that is, there is a higher than normal chance of a security issue arising from their presence in London. Resulting from this is the need for British intelligence to give them extra protection to ensure that, should any plot arise, it can be successfully dealt with before any consequences can arise._

_Danilo and Viridiana Rios_

_Danilo Rios is the current Minister for the Interior in the Spanish government. A charismatic man, he is respected by many as a straight-talker. He will be the official Spanish representation at the Games in London, and will be expected to attend a number of events featuring Spanish hopefuls, such as the basketball and sailing. He is planning to bring his teenage daughter, Viridiana, to the Games with him, whilst his wife will remain in Spain. Viridiana is a typical thirteen-year-old girl and will accompany her father to a number of the official events._

_Threats to the Rios Family_

_A week ago, two different messages were passed to Danilo Rios from an unknown source. Both of these made threats against his life unless he was willing to make a payment into an anonymous bank account and raise a set of specific issues in the Spanish government. The police believe the two messages to be linked and the work of a single organisation, possibly based outside Spain. Mr. Rios has opted to continue his trip to London despite these, but has accepted the British government's offer of heightened security at his hotel and personal bodyguards for him and his daughter._

_The Mission_

_A female CHERUB agent, preferably aged between twelve and fourteen with fluency in Spanish, will pose as the daughter of a British kickboxing instructor and act as bodyguard to Viridiana. Official bodyguards will also be provided, but the agent is expected to stay close to Viridiana at all times, including at night, to prevent any covert attempts to kidnap or kill her. Viridiana has consented to this arrangement and it is preferable that the agent get along well with her. They plan to depart London after the closing ceremony, so the mission will come to a close on 18th August. _

_The agent will be expected to accompany Viridiana to all events and may have brief contact with the press, but media agencies will be instructed not to film or photograph the Rios's._

_THE ETHICS COMMITTEE ACCEPTED THIS MISSION ON A 4-0 VOTE BUT REQUEST THAT THE AGENT CONSIDER THE FOLLOWING:_

_This mission has been classified as MEDIUM RISK. While there is no anticipation of any action by terrorist organisations, it is possible, and these groups are extremely dangerous._

_Due to increased media presence at the Games, the agent must ensure that her likeness is not in the spotlight unless absolutely necessary._

"Well, any questions?" Jules asked once she'd finished.

Letty shrugged. "Basically I have to make friends with this girl and make sure nobody shoots her in the dead of night?"

"More or less. You'll be able to be friendly with her, but you should be on your guard at all times. You might say that you're the last line of defence," Jules said. "If they come in with guns blazing, you don't stand a chance, but you might just spot something the security guards don't."

"Nice thought, there," Letty replied, preferring not to think about gun-toting terrorists.

"It's not in the briefing, but if you accept, you'll be living in a luxury central London hotel, all expenses paid, and of course you'll get VIP tickets to a whole load of the events."

Letty obviously wasn't going to turn down a cushy few weeks in a hotel, but she paused before answering. "I'll do it on one condition."

"What's that?" Jules asked, looking concerned. It was clear he'd expected a fast answer and a condition was suddenly making him question the mission.

Letty grinned. "I want a ticket for the men's basketball final. Somewhere not right at the back."

"Americans," Jules replied, shaking his head. "What if the USA gets knocked out before that?"

"No chance. We're getting gold," Letty replied smugly.

"Alright, done. The Spanish have a good team anyway, so you might end up in the VIP box if they make it to the final."

With the briefing behind her and a date set for departure, Letty could start counting down the days. She hadn't been able to tell any of her friends about the mission because it hadn't been finalised, but now she could start making her goodbyes. She had a swimming lesson scheduled next and made her way down the path towards the pool, trying to suppress her excitement about the mission. She slid her phone out of her jeans and tapped out a quick triumphant text to wind up the others, but after she'd added Jemima and Beatrice to the recipients list she automatically added George before pausing. She was still angry with him and the text was too light-hearted, so she deleted his name before pressing send. She couldn't believe he'd not only left without apologising but also without saying goodbye, and now that she was going on a mission she wouldn't see him for three or four weeks.

Thinking about George put her into a bad mood and it must have shown on her face as she was changing into her swimming costume, because the black-shirt instructor looked concerned.

"What's up?" she asked. "You've got a face like thunder."

"Just thinking about how dumb boys are," Letty replied, shrugging. "Always drives me wild."

"You and me both," the instructor laughed.

She broke the news of her upcoming mission to Jemima over dinner, but since it was only a few weeks long it wasn't particularly emotional. She'd definitely still be back in time to go to the hostel and three weeks in a luxury hotel before a week in the Mediterranean sounded like the perfect way to spend the rest of the summer.

"I am so jealous," Jemima said, slicing up a potato waffle into equal chunks. "You always get the best missions."

"I guess it's true that if you do a good job on your early missions, you get the best ones later," Letty replied, sticking out her tongue.

"Don't remind me. My mission performances haven't exactly been perfect," Jemima said, sighing. "At least they're still better than George's."

Letty ground her palm against her forehead. "Don't remind me about that idiot. I still haven't forgiven him."

"Sorry, I forgot," Jemima replied quickly. "He told me and Rex he's in London as well, so you might bump into him."

"I hope not," Letty said unhappily. "Last thing I need is his stupid face popping up, and knowing him I bet it will. Anyway, since when could you spend more than five minutes in a room with Rex?"

Jemima turned red and stared at her waffle. "We just had that mission together and it's made things easier. It's no big deal."

"It is a big deal if you blush," Letty giggled.

Jemima pointed her fork at Letty. "Don't get any ideas. I still hate his guts and if you start spreading rumours I'll start spreading you all over the walls."

"Overkill much?" Letty said, but took her point. Nobody liked being gossiped about, but it was fun to tease Jemima.


End file.
